


Lament of the Lonely Emperor

by waywardCryptid



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Hemospectrum Shift, Illustrated, Karkat complaining, Unrequited Moirallegiance, bloodswap, okay there's only one picture but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 03:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12808644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardCryptid/pseuds/waywardCryptid
Summary: In which His Imperial Relentlessness, Karkat Vantas, has a very open conversation with a lowly bronzeblooded prisoner by the name of Gamzee Makara.





	Lament of the Lonely Emperor

 

 

Life as  _ His Imperial Relentlessness _ is tiresome. Not in the ‘there is so much to do, please allow me to rest’ manner. More so in the ‘everyone does things for me and I’m about to fall asleep at my throne.’ Night after night, you sit on your ass hoping for something to just  _ happen _ . 

And nothing. Ever.  _ Happens. _

No, that’s a lie. Sometimes things happen. Aradia visits you from time to time. She saunters her way in with cape flowing behind her, ready to present her newest find from her newest voyage. She’ll shove it under your nose with a flourish and babble on about the adventure. You try your damnedest to pay a shred of attention.

Sometimes, Kanaya is brought in. The top legislacerator sent to drone on about recent cases of heinous crimes. Tongue-in-cheek, you’ll give an occasional comment or ‘uh-huh.’ Not that you think she even notices you’re not really listening. It’s the same thing every time: a lowblooded troll caught mouthing off to a highblood, someone not sacrificing a good portion of their time to your worship, blah blah blah.

And then, your royal doors swing open.

Two indigobloods— one being a former pale-fling, Sollux Captor— lead in a tall and lanky figure in cuffs resembling your sign. Though the faces of your guards are stone and fixed in solid frowns, the mug of the troll before you is… plastered with a lopsided, lazy grin. His curling sign is a warm bronze, reflecting in his glossy eyes.

“Emperor Vantas,” The not-Sollux guard grunts after a quick bow, “this troll has been reported of excessive and repeated thievery of sopor slime. When placed under further investigation, we discovered that he is  _ consuming _ the slime. Well, he upfront confessed this to us.”

You roll your eyes, cheek pressed against your knuckles. “And why the absolute fuck should I care? That’s petty bullshit that can easily be solved  _ without _ disturbing me.”

“When we explained to him that thievery is against Alternian law,” Sollux says while trying his hardest to bite back the lisp for professionalism's sake, “he gave some flabby explanation of his own that basically meant ‘I don’t care.’ We then told him that talk like that goes against your word, your Relentlessness.” He dips a bow that is a lot more mock-i-er than the other guard. You groan. Sollux is fully aware that you  _ loathe _ that name.

“And?”

The indigos exchange quick glances, then look at the troll in bonds. Then back at you. “He ran his flap for a good 25 minutes about how much he’d  _ love _ to meet you.” The guard you couldn’t care less about sneers. “So we granted his wish and brought him here for you to do as you would like with him.”

The prisoner gives you a tiny, lackadaisy wave. “Sup, bro?”

You don’t get paid enough for this shit. You don’t get paid  _ at all _ . Grabbing your 2x3dentKind out of your strife specibus, you rise from your throne and approach. The no-name guard gulps. Sollux exhales sharply. The prisoner who just called you  _ bro _ doesn’t budge an inch. This is… interesting to you. You wave your trident and the indigobloods take this as a sign to leave you with the bronze troll.

Once the door shuts and you’re alone, you tilt your head and squint. “What the  _ fuck _ is wrong with you?” You ask with a voice bordering on incredulous. 

The bronzeblood shrugs and takes it upon himself to plant his  _ ass _ on your  _ floor _ . “Name’s Gamzee Makara.” He lifts a bony arm and offers his hand— which you can’t  _ not _ take. When he closes his fingers around your hand, it’s as if he has always known you. He’s so casual with shaking the Emperor’s hand it’s almost scary. Who the fuck is this guy?

He’s Gamzee Makara.

“I know this is some wicked wild circumstance to be meeting under, but I was hoping to bend your little fin-ear things for a spell. Not every day someone gets to chat with a motherfuckin’ seadweller.” He ends with a smile and suddenly your body lowers and you’re sitting on the ground in front of this lowblood. Someone who is allowed to barely scrape by.

You scratch a section of your neck right by your gills. “I… uh. Fine. Whatever. Only because I have nothing fucking better to do. But say one wrong thing or make a funny fucking move, and trusty 2x3dentKind here will go through your throatstem. Got it?”

He twangs a salute at you and it makes his cuffs clatter. “No problem-o.” 

“...What the hell do you even want to talk about?”

Gamzee mulls this question over thoroughly and for a long time. “What’s it like being the all mighty Emperor of Alternia?”

“Boring as all bulge-sucking fuck,” you say with full transparency. “There’s nothing to fucking do because everyone is so damn stuck in the late,  _ great _ Empress’s ways that they won't listen to a single fucking thing I say.” Your teeth grit at the thought of your ancestor. The Condescension and her ways. Never did you understand her tireless cruelty— even throughout all of the strenuous schoolfeeding they forced into your pan.

He looks like he’s listening intently. “What kind of things you all up and sayin’, brother?” Gamzee asks and leans forward a touch. For once, someone sounds intrigued to listen to you.

You sigh. “That all this hemo-bullshit is just that. Bullshit. I just can’t wrap my pan around this stupid legacy she left behind.”

“Can the Emperor himself get culled for treason-speak?” Gamzee chuckles to himself.

“You don’t have to keep calling me ‘Emperor,’ alright? My name is Karkat.”

This makes him grin. Wide and toothy and real. You have only seen that kind of smile a few times in your life: when Aradia talks about her trips and the few, fleeting pale moments you have with Sollux. And only Sollux has smiled at  _ you _ with meaning. “Nice to make your royal acquaintance, Karkat.”

You mutter, “yeah…” and then add, “what the fuck do you need to _eat_ _sopor_ for? Doesn’t that shit rot you from the inside out?”

Gamzee swipes his tongue over a front fang and bobs his head from side to side. “Helps me kinda… block out all the negative shit outside, ya feel? Even when there’s a fuckload of drones outside killin’ and capturin’, I can cozy on up in my little hive with a nice sopor pie. Don’t bother me none, and I feel just as fine as when I motherfuckin’ hatched.”

You nod dumbly, as if you vaguely understand.

“It's a real god damn miracle, what them pies can do. Totally too difficult to even  _ begin _ explaining until you try it for yourself.”

“I’ll pass,” You say. “What’s it like…? Living around more people?” You feel like a total dumbass wriggler asking that. But the questions seem to flow out of your flap like water. Gamzee has a quality that makes you just  _ talk. _ And you’re trying your hardest to not think about that quality too hard.

Your guest gazes almost lovingly towards the ceiling. “Shit’s nice. I got some roommates. Powerful as shit psionic named Equius and a meowbeast-crazy chick called Vriska. We got a cute little hut in a oliveblood town and just hang out. Good shit.”

“Good shit,” You echo. Sounds like good shit. Most of the time you want to clobber anyone who dares step into your chamber. But sometimes, you long for a companion in this lonely ship. You found that in Sollux.

You can vividly remember being friends with pale benefits with the indigoblood. He was snarky enough and charming enough and a good enough listener to sit in the throne room for hours and nod along to your rantings. On occasion, he would be the one sitting in your seat as you paced the floor. He would never interrupt— unless you said something stupid enough for him to— and he would never question your judgement. He was real, true moirail material. 

But you let him get away. You let him come less and less and then not at all, leaving you alone and wondering which rant exactly it was that pushed him over the edge. What speech made Sollux think,  _ yeah, thith guy’th lotht it. _ And then you tried to hold a grudge. And then it failed.

Now, you just sit and give each other weird post-pale glances. He never utters  _ how are you doing  _ or  _ here if you need anything _ . Good riddance.

“You okay, Karbro?” Gamzee asks, waving a chained hand in your face. You respond with rolling eyes and gently taking this wrist. He fucking flinches. You falter, but carry on the action of taking a key out of your captchalogue and unlocking him. You shove the cuffs away, grimacing at the shape of your sign on the floor. “Thanks,” he says.

“I want to propose something.” 

You’re about to do something very stupid.

“Shoot, brother. I’m all ears for his Relentlessness.”

He’s not stopping you from doing something  _ extremely stupid. _

“I will take you in from your designated living space and allow you to live in the flagship. You can get anything you ask for and you’ll have no need for sopor for the rest of your life. But there is one condition,” you meet his gaze and hold it, “you’ll be… my moirail.”

There’s no response for a good minute. Gamzee’s lips part, but then close. Finally, he replies, “No can do, bro.”

You’re violently taken aback. “ _ No? _ ” You breathe, as if the word will cause you physical pain as it leaves your mouth. And in a way, it does. You’ve never really been told no before— it’s just not something you do to an Emperor. But this guy just doesn’t seem to fucking care  _ who _ you are. Or, apparently, what you have to offer.

“I’m pretty good with the digs I have now. No sense in fixin’ what ain’t broke.” He watches you get to your feet and clutch your trident in your hand. You have no intention on striking him, but the added intimidation factor wouldn’t hurt. “I appreciate the motherfuckin’ generous offer, but I just can’t leave behind all that good shit I got goin’ for me.”

He gets up too.

“Yeah, sure. Go back home to your dusty, lowlife hive and rot away with some other poor sacks of shit. Because there’s _ obviously _ nothing better than that.” You take a few, threatening steps towards him. He mirrors by stepping back. “You know, Makara? There are so many others who would pounce nug first onto the opportunity to fill an  _ Emperor’s  _ quadrant. But now that I think about it real long and fuckin’ hard, maybe I’m just not cut out for this ‘companionship’ thing. Thanks for helping me figure that out and wasting my time.”

Gamzee holds two thin hands up in defense, but he doesn’t look worried in the slightest. “Ain’t what I’m saying. Just telling you that I’m not leavin’ where I came from. I’ll be your pal— I’ll be anyone’s pal.”

You stall your stalk towards him. Pal is just one letter away from pale, but it’s still one whole letter and he did say  _ anyone _ . But fuck, you’re so fucking  _ alone _ . There’s no possible way to make that anymore clear. “Just get out, Gamzee.”

“Karbr—”

“ _ Out. _ Or I’ll have Captor escort you out.”

This causes him to shudder. He turns on his heels to leave your chamber, but doesn’t make it all the way. “If you’re ever down for some wicked chill ‘sesh with me and my roomies, my trollian handle is terminallyCapricious. Hit me up.”

He flashes you a finger gun and lazy grin before stuffing both hands in his pockets and strolling out of your chamber.

**Author's Note:**

> Tiny little illustration at the beginning by me and can also be found at my tumblr @ nepurrrrta.
> 
> Thank you for reading this quick n messy little thing!


End file.
